If Heaven Isn't Here

If Heaven isn’t there

And God is nothing more than

a well-funded daydream

Then where have you gone?

I think I know.

Because I can feel you

You are

The choreographer of 

The Tides

The sculptor

 of silence

The secret breath

 of the wind

The infinite kindness 

of the sun

The late-night custodian 

of the moon

The inventor  

of storms

Even though I can no longer

see you perform a series of soubresauts

along a serpentine stage of sand 

the kind that weeps down 

the slender neck of an  hourglass 

until time runs out,

or hear your voice

that was made to sing with mine

or entwine my fingers

with yours to escort you

safely home

Life goes on

with you.

Everywhere.